


The Bagman's Gambit

by dfotw



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (actually Senator Ben Amidala), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clothing Porn, Food, Kylo Amidala, Light Angst, M/M, Padmé Amidala Lives, Politics, Senator Ben Solo, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8396188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dfotw/pseuds/dfotw
Summary: Gossip says that Senator Ben Amidala appropriated his late grandmother's wardrobe the same way he'd taken over her political legacy...In a world where Padmé Amidala lived, her grandson has picked up her legacy and is one of the biggest names of the Galactic Senate. Hux, advisor to a senator from a suspect planet, gets curious, gets in way over his head, and gets more than he expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU (or should it be UA, did that ever get picked up by fandom?), Padmé Amidala survived where Anakin Skywalker did not. Though the Empire still rose, and most things from the Original Trilogy stand, without Darth Vader their defeat was faster and more thorough. But still, Imperial stragglers remained, and so the First Order decided to give this so-called democracy a try...
> 
> Eternal thanks go to my dear friend over at [SeriouslyStarWars on Tumblr](https://seriouslystarwars.tumblr.com/) (check it out!) for more patience, encouragement, brain-storming, advice, and cheerleading than I probably deserved.
> 
> Title from [The Decemberists' song of the same name](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3oe4vlkoHE).

Gossip says that Senator Amidala appropriated his late grandmother's wardrobe the same way he'd taken over her political legacy, and if Hux hadn't pulled old archival footage to confirm that Ben Amidala is at least a foot taller and twice as wide in the shoulders as the late Padme Amidala had been, he might believe it.

Hux thinks about this as his eyes track the infamous senator; it's been two tedious hours of manoeuvring around the function where he's spending (wasting, rather) his evening, and Hux needs all the distraction he can get. Of course Senator Snoke doesn't attend such things, so as his top advisor it's Hux's duty to make an appearance and weather the askance looks and whispers that Snoke's position begets. Representing Nova Arkanis, an Outer Rim planet with a population composed of former Imperial Officers, recruits of mysterious provenance, and refugees forced into staying after the war, is somehow not a popular stance.

Just now, thanks to the ebb and flow of the mass of well-dressed people that fills the room, Senator Amidala drifts next to Hux, without the presence of his entourage for once. It's a rare opportunity, and one he should take advantage of, but it's been a long day and it's hard to quickly disentangle his mind from his previous thoughts, so when those dark eyes turn towards him, Hux finds himself blurting out a question about the provenance of the ornate gown the senator is wearing that evening.

He's horrified with himself, but to his credit, Hux doesn't cover his face with the drink he's been nursing for two hours; instead, he tries to look as if yes, that was the most important thing he could think of in Senator Amidala's presence, but it isn't like he's very invested in the answer all the same. Just normal small talk between two powerful people, that's all.

The red pigment daubed on the senator's lips twists just a little when he smiles, and the strings of beads on his headpiece tinkle softly as he nods.

“As a matter of fact, yes, in a way it is my grandmother's,” Amidala answers, and his tone is more appreciative than the usual drawl with which he points out the flaws in the Hux's plans to the Senate floor. “We copied the patterns and in some cases even reused some of the fabrics we couldn't replicate.” He runs a large hand down the outer of what Hux calculates to be seven layered tunics. “This was made from one of her ceremonial robes. It's symbolic, you see.”

Heroically, Hux doesn't roll his eyes. He's wearing a perfectly serviceable dark grey suit, which symbolises how much time he doesn't have to waste on this bullshit, but somehow his idiotic question has given him an opening, and he'd be a fool to squander it.

Except that when he opens his mouth to point out to the senator that, by the way, the tax reform for Outer Rim goods that Hux proposed last tenday isn't strictly related to all those nice illegal weapon factories that have begun to sprout there, he is interrupted by one of Amidala's so-called Knights of Ren. The attendant, wearing clothes in a similar style to the senator's, whispers something in his ear then gives just a step back, looking at Hux in what he fancies is a smug silence.

“Excuse me,” says Senator Amidala, and the red paint of his lips again twists a little with his smile. “I have to see to my tailor.”

He swans off, head held high and long sleeves fluttering behind him, the crowd parting for him and his entourage as Hux empties his drink and swears darkly he'll get Snoke's tax reform passed, somehow.

 

 

The next time they cross paths, on a corridor of the Senate building, after a pugnacious but ultimately futile debate on import and export laws (how does a senator know so much about smuggling, Hux hates him), Amidala meets his eyes and gestures at his voluminous skirts, made of a blue fabric, meticulously pleated.

“Do you like it?” he calls out, before being surrounded by his so-called knights and whisked away to an awaiting transport.

“So much like his grandmother before him,” says the diminutive, wrinkled senator from Takodana with a sigh.

“If you say so,” Hux replies, hating how tight his voice sounds.

“I do say so. If you live long enough, you see the same eyes in different people.” The senator adjusts her goggles and peers up at Hux. “For example, now I'm looking at the eyes of a man who wants to punch someone.”

Even though she's very much not Snoke's ally on the Senate floor, Hux can't help but smile at Senator Kanata.

“I suspect that's something you see a lot around Amidala,” he says, and is rewarded by a giggle before the tiny senator walks away, followed by a dark-skinned secretary that looks at Hux like he suspects him of having just done something nefarious.

It takes Hux a moment to identify the secretary as their former intern, who Phasma resents because he deserted after three days in Coruscant, leaving them with their second choice, Mitaka. Usually the Nova Arkanis delegation exerts enough pressure on its members (between indoctrination, blackmail, and unsubtle threats of violence) that desertions are rare and those who do run to the Outer Rim to hide from retribution, but Hux honestly doesn't have time now to look further into this case. It's not like interns are a great loss, anyway, and Senator Amidala is a far more tempting target.

Like his grandmother before him, Ben Amidala has conquered the hearts and imaginations of the galaxy with a mixture of youth, striking looks, and clever rhetoric. Unlike his grandmother before him, Ben Amidala has yet to indulge in a scandal such as giving birth to twins from an unknown father then giving them up for adoption to better focus on her career. The rumours (was the father a master from the failed Jedi order? A pilot lost to space? A fellow senator?) had plagued Padme Amidala all her life, resurfacing at the worst possible moment during the war, when the leaders of the unsanctioned 'Rebel' faction had been revealed as her long-lost children.

Hux dreams of the moment when Ben Amidala will do something just as foolish. And surely he will. It's just a matter of time; for all his charisma and pedigree, Amidala has the formidable temper of his mother, General Organa, whose brief career in the Senate before she left for the military was punctuated by legendary altercations that interns still retold at lunch breaks.

Hux also dreams of accelerating that fall, just a little. He has people working on investigating Amidala's weaknesses, indiscretions and foibles. Unfortunately, the so-called Knights of Ren are a tight-knit bunch (Hux wishes his people showed that kind of loyalty), and so far they have nothing but Amidala's hardly-secret penchant for dramatics and pretty baubles.

Then again, Hux hasn't gotten to where he is by leaving others to do the important work. Perhaps it's time he looks into this himself. After all, he seems to have caught Amidala's attention.

 

 

Hux decides to go about it carefully, and absolutely on his own. If he so much as whispers a breath of this idea to his boss, Snoke will ruin it by doing something extravagant and decidedly unsubtle, like sending Amidala a shipping container full of priceless cerlin silk for a bribe. For all his dramatics, the young senator needs a more careful treatment. That is why Hux does the planning (and why some day he will be a senator himself instead of just an advisor; if only he didn't have the weight of his father's name dragging him down...)

He starts by going back to the archives. Naboo customs are odd by Coruscant standards and absurdly intricate. The rules that regulate ceremonial clothing alone would make a Senate intern weep, but from what Hux can gather from a quick review of Senator Amidala's latest outfits, he abides by them strictly. No wonder he was pleased by Hux's question: it must have seemed to him to be the first time someone outside his adopted planet appreciated what must be quite an effort.

It takes him the better part of the night, and two carafes of caff, but Hux manages to assemble a quick guide to the most salient points of Naboo couture: the meaning of colours and their combinations, the main styles of headdresses, the occasions that call for face paint. He should go to sleep after that, but instead he pulls up a holo of the night when he spoke to Amidala and tries to put his new-found knowledge to use while Millicent pokes at it.

It doesn't entirely surprise him that Amidala was dressed for war that night; that seems to be a theme with him, alongside with wearing a dead woman's clothes. Is all his Senate run, all his life, a constant battle? That must be exhausting, thinks Hux, ignoring the little voice in his head that reminds him that he wears his suits like he once wore a uniform, like armour.

 

 

The next time Hux meets Senator Amidala, the man's face is painted white, and dark blue lines drop from his eyes and his lips, matching the crushed velvet of his gown.

Just to be sure, Hux frantically checks his notes before striding down the corridor with all the confidence he can muster.

“Good to see you dressed for compromise, Senator,” he says when they pass, in the inoffensive tone of one saying a platitude.

Amidala's pace falters and he turns to look at Hux from amidst his entourage. The make-up makes it difficult to read his expression, but Hux feels a frisson of triumph all the same.

“Not with Senator Snoke, captain,” Amidala says, his voice frosty, before turning and stalking away in a rustle of velvet.

The use of his (former) military title stings, but Hux reasons it's both a natural reaction by Amidala at being caught by surprise and a sign that the senator has a dossier on Hux and has studied it; it's a thought that soothes his pride. All in all, he decides to chalk this first attempt as a success, if nothing else at catching Amidala's attention.

What Hux will do with it when he gets it, he hasn't decided yet.

 

 

Ben examines his reflection in the mirror and runs a gloved hand down the expanse of crushed velvet of his skirts. The meeting went well. The agreement was reached. Then why are his hands trembling slightly, why are his shoulders so tense?

Armitage Hux. Ben has known to look out for him for a long time, the pale shadow whispering at Snoke's ear, at times barely hiding a gesture of disdain for his employer. An Empire child, son of a man like the ones Padme Amidala battled all her life.

That Hux would try something to discredit him, Ben has known all along. That he would do this, this mocking of a thing Ben holds so dear, he hadn't counted on. But two can play at this game. If Hux can pretend to be interested, appreciative even, Ben can pretend to be flattered, to be the vapid prince some of the press makes him out to be.

Let Hux draw closer, if he wants. Ben will be prepared to meet him as he deserves.

 

 

Hux is a little wary the next time he must attend a committee to which Senator Amidala belongs. So far he has kept their 'unofficial' interactions to nondescript corridors and the judgemental but discreet presence of the Knights of Ren (and Senator Kanata, that one time), and he doesn't want anything to happen where Snoke might get wind of it.

Fortunately, he needn't worry. Senator Amidala, resplendent in dark grey and blood red (unbending determination, readiness for conflict, acknowledgement of the losses necessary for a triumph), with a headdress of softly-clanging chains settled on the dark waves of his hair (an oath to trample one's enemies), doesn't even glance in his direction all throughout the meeting. He is eloquent, passionate, occasionally dramatic, and he sways the room in his favour in spite of all the numbers and reports Hux put together for Snoke.

Hux admires him a little, but mostly he wants to punch him. Maybe it's true that Senator Kanata can read minds, like the rumour says.

Snoke walks out the moment the meeting is dismissed, leaving Hux to pick up all the hard work that proved so useless and give it to a droid to take back to his office. He needs a glass of Corellian brandy, a cushion to scream into, and a raise, but right now he'll settle for stacking the datapads with more meticulousness than necessary to give the room time to clear up before he has to look up.

Except that when he finally hears silence and straightens up to dismiss the droid, he finds Senator Amidala standing two feet away, looking at him.

“Take this back to the office,” Hux tells the droid, which beeps obediently before rolling out of the room, passing the Knights of Ren gathered by the doorway. “Senator, how may I help you?”

Ben Amidala blinks twice before answering.

“The figures on kyber crystals, how did you get them?”

Hux is so unaccustomed to the sweet flush of validation that it takes him a moment to recognise the feeling as such. He worked damn hard for those and Snoke probably hasn't even seen them.

“I'm afraid I can't reveal my sources.”

“Bantha shit,” says the senator, rolling his eyes.

Hux coughs out a surprised laugh.

“Seriously,” he says, trying to sound professional. “I wouldn't reveal them to Snoke, and he is my boss.”

Amidala gives a considering hum, dark eyes still trained on Hux.

“Not even for a price?”

“Are you trying to bribe me, senator?”

“Of course not.” Amidala doesn't even seem offended by the suggestion, which could so easily turn into an internal investigation. “A question for a question, that's all.” Without the white face paint, it's easier to tell when he's smiling. “In spite of what people say, I do believe you must have some measure of integrity.”

Anger is a cold, prickly thing to swallow down, though Hux has had much practice, and he curses himself for letting his guard down Amidala, even for a moment.

“That wasn't meant as an insult,” the senator says with a small frown because apparently Hux's sabacc face is also shot and isn't this turning out to be a delightful day.

“I am not curious enough about you to reveal my sources,” Hux says, instead of addressing his undiplomatic anger.

“Are you not.” Titanium chains tinkle as Amidala tilts his head. “How much time did you take off from doing Snoke's bidding to look up my wardrobe?”

“Who says that wasn't at Snoke's bidding?”

Senator Amidala draws back a fraction and looks at Hux with dark, khol-rimmed eyes. Shit, can all senators read minds now? Is that why Hux will never be anything more than an advisor?

“No,” Amidala says. “It's clever, and Snoke is not clever.”

'And I am?', Hux wants to ask, but his dignity has taken enough of a beating for the day, and anyway, he's used to all the compliments thrown his way being backhanded.

“Anyway,” the senator says. “You know my price for when your curiosity gets the best of you.”

Hux hasn't managed to formulate a better response than 'fuck you' by the time Amidala is out of the room and surrounded by his entourage again.

“Fuck you,” he says all the same, and the cleaning droid that just appeared on the doorway draws back with an apologetic beep.

 

 

That night, over his second glass of Corellian brandy, with Millicent a warm weight on his lap, Hux thinks about calling the whole thing off. He can ignore Senator Amidala, forget everything he learnt about Cyrene silk, and hope to fade back into the relative obscurity of a staffer. But, damn it, he's never been one to leave things half-done, and then there's the tempting notion of getting to ask Ben Amidala a question and being guaranteed an answer.

It will have to be clever, as clever as Amidala apparently thinks Hux is; he can't waste such an opportunity on a simple request for information he might potentially find somewhere else. It will have to gain him a valuable answer, far more valuable than the names of the smugglers and customs officials Hux had ferreted out; Hux doesn't play unless it's to win. 

The problem is, Hux can't think of anything. Ben Amidala won't admit to any career-ending scandals just like that, and obtaining anything less would feel like a waste. Unless...

Hux doesn't usually have the patience for a long con. He prefers quick results: bribes or threats or blackmail, something that will minimise risks. But Senator Amidala might be worth the expenditure of time and energy that will take to get into his inner circle. At best, Hux will get his dream of bringing him down; at worst, he will have the favour and influence of a famous senator on his side.

Well, realistically, at the very worst he will be found out and will lose his job and all the reputation he's worked so hard to achieve, but Hux trusts his ability to avoid that outcome, if nothing else.

 

 

In the tenday it takes him to engineer another seemingly-casual, definitely-discreet encounter with Senator Amidala, Hux almost changes his mind ten times. Is the reward really worth the risk? Is the risk within acceptable limits? Are Hux's limits skewed by how much devious crap he's had to do to get where he is?

In the end, it matters little. The Naboo delegation organises a soirée at the gardens of their embassy, to celebrate the anniversary of a nature reserve law that Padmé Amidala passed, and of course Snoke takes a look at the invitation and drops it in Hux's hand before turning away.

So, there Hux is, in his best suit (it's durasteel grey and cost probably a fraction of the price of what the woman in front of him must have paid for her shoes), trying to look at ease as he drifts between the tall shrubberies filled with flowers and lights. He's holding a glass filled with something luminous and sparkly, and half-heartedly trying to find another of the droids carrying trays of tiny delicacies he can't identify but loves all the same.

“Ah, you came,” says a voice behind him, and he turns to see Ben Amidala.

He's wearing a pale golden gown in silky cerlin, held up by thin straps of orichalc, and Hux struggles to remember his notes about plenty and celebration and remembrance. The golden cerlin falls in soft folds down Ben Amidala's formidable chest, revealing a smattering of moles and the physique of a gladiator.

Hux is thankful the gown is relatively modest. He's not easily distracted, but the fluttering lights in the shrubberies cast odd shadows, and somehow in all his research he's missed the fact that under those intricate robes Ben Amidala looks like a dirty holo.

“Good evening, senator,” he says, taking a small sip of his drink.

“I hope you're enjoying the party?” Amidala doesn't wait for an answer. “You look like Snoke doesn't feed you enough, let me have some of those little canapés brought over.”

Hux chokes on his drink. Ben Amidala has turned his back on him, and all the golden cerlin has disappeared in favour of an expanse of pale skin that reaches down to... is that his...? So that's where the cleavage went. Hux looks up to the sky over Coruscant and hopes the low lights will hide his reaction.

“Here.” 

Hux has to look back down to acknowledge the helpful little droid holding up a tray of glossy nibbles just for him.

“Thank you,” he says in the vague direction of Amidala, choosing a bite of something pale green and stuffing it in his mouth. It's at once creamy and refreshing, with a faint herbal taste, and Hux, who was raised on military rations his father hoarded from the 'good old days', wants to eat it all, forever.

“You're welcome.”

Thankfully Amidala is facing Hux again, but the memory of that bare back (and more!) is just as distracting as the full view. Hux grabs another nibble (some sort of spiced fish jelly, and forget it, *this* is what he wants to eat until the end of his days) and tries to focus on his plan.

The thing about the people at the top, Hux has learned, is that they are unbearably lonely. Just look at Ben Amidala: estranged from his mother (regardless of the occasional holoshoot they do for propaganda), not in speaking terms with his father ever since the Organa-Solo divorce, surrounded by yes-men in the shape of his vaunted 'knights'. From Hux's research, he knows there's a younger cousin trying to make it in the military, and the only other name that comes up with any frequency is the famous Commander Dameron, who dashing as he might be, is far too busy a man to do much for Amidala.

No wonder the man himself is here, looking at Hux with curious, dark eyes.

“I considered your proposal,” Hux says before he can be tempted to stuff his mouth with another delicious nibble. “Here.”

Ben Amidala blinks once at the datapad Hux is holding out, then takes it with a careful hand, heavy with rings. Hux doesn't breath while he watches the senator go through the list of his sources.

“I see.” Amidala looks up at him. “And your question?”

This is it. Hux can still ask something about financing and donations from the last Jedi temple, and pretend nothing more ever occurred to him.

“Why your grandmother's clothes?” he asks instead.

It's a hard-earned triumph to see Amidala falter with surprise.

 

 

Ben Amidala ends the transmission with a feeling of triumph. Rey will hunt those kyber crystal smugglers until they wish they'd never been hatched, and Uncle Luke off in his remote planet will perhaps be a little less disappointed by what's become of this generation of the family. And what Uncle Luke knows, Han Solo will find out within the hour and so...

No. That's a bridge long burnt.

Ben slips out of the beautiful gown he'd worn for the party, and smiles faintly at the memory of Hux's expression (reflected on a droid's plated surface) when he'd seen the open back. 

Most of the people from the First Order Ben has met, including Senator Snoke, are horribly repressed, and all underlings seem terrified of putting a toe out of line or else indignant at the New Republic's 'decadence'. But Hux is curious instead, trying all the delicacies the droids had offered him, willing to deal under the table for information, far too clever for that awful grey suit he'd been wearing.

Ben hangs the gown and runs a hand down the soft cerlin. Why his grandmother's clothes indeed.

He'd been honest with Hux. Well, honest up to a point. Ben knows he's being played, he knows that Hux has a motive well beyond curiosity, but he also could sense that Hux had been genuinely curious. And besides, he'd promised himself he'd never be ashamed of who he was or what he did.

(his first gown, made from a dress Leia had spilled engine grease on while arguing with Han, days and nights reworking the fabric around the stain, looking at holos of his grandmother, staring at himself in the mirror, trying to imitate her regal bearing, her composure, white facepaint and shaky red lines, and finally wearing the damn thing out of his room for the first time, Han looking up at him and laughing, good joke kid now go get changed we're going to be late, dismissed once again, and it's been fifteen years but his throat still burns with fury)

Bridges burnt from both ends. But that's in the past.

What Ben had explained to Hux had been his admiration for Padmé Amidala, for her life and her work, his love for Naboo rising from the ashes of the occupation, the intricacy of a language of fabric and metal like a private joke Ben can wear around all day. And Hux had listened and asked all the right questions and tried to hide a smile or two in a mouthful of the appetisers he'd eaten like he'd been starved all his life.

Ben is careful, but he's curious too, and he's never been one to deny himself. He can afford to see what Hux will try to do next. It'll keep him entertained, at the very least.

 

 

Hux knows Amidala is suspicious. Who wouldn't be? But he's also curious, and that's an opening Hux can use to his advantage. 

And there are other openings too, though Hux hasn't decided if they're worth the sacrifice of his pride; Amidala had seemingly delighted in feeding him more and more exotic canapes while explaining their origins, had taken a gold cuff off his wrist to allow Hux to admire the scrollwork on it, had crushed flowers for Hux to smell. Obviously Hux had meant to be flattered, and he had been, but he had also been calculating the possibilities.

Maybe he can let himself be seduced, just a little bit. His father did always rail so against the decadence of the Republic, the least Hux can do is sample it.

In the meantime, Hux is sampling Snoke's displeasure, which pervades the atmosphere like a sickly, putrid mist. Something has gone wrong in the minuscule portion of the senator's world to which Hux is not privy to, and now everyone in the office, from Phasma to the cleaning droid, are trying to exist as inconspicuously as possible.

Hux wonders if this is how it is at Senator Amidala's office. He doubts it: Ben Amidala seems more the type for dramatics and punching consoles than the type to sit at his desk quietly glaring at anything that moves. Hux hates dramatics, but right now he'd find them almost refreshing.

Phasma glances at him as she marches out of the office, and Hux looks back in mixed despair and envy. Phasma is one of those rare people who prefer to be behind the scenes, and Hux dreams of having her in his staff when he makes it into the Senate; for now they are good colleagues and he's sure she'll bring him a cup of caff when she comes back, but she gets to escape and he doesn't.

A beep from his console startles him out of his despondency. A summons from the Senate security office is rarely good news, but Hux brightens when he sees it, then puts on a suitable chagrined face as he goes to inform Snoke he has to go.

Hux does worry a little as to what Security needs him for (have his communications been compromised? His ID duplicated? The time he had an emergency cigarette in the bathroom discovered?), but this is quickly forgotten when he spots one of the unsubtle Knights of Ren at the entrance to the building. The man is wearing a dark travella cloak and mask-like make-up, and Hux wonders if the rumour is true and Amidala chooses them based on their resemblance to him.

“This way, please,” the Knight tells Hux, pointing towards what's certainly not the security office.

“I'm here on official business,” Hux informs him.

“This way, please,” the Knight repeats, perfectly monotonous, and takes Hux's elbow to lead him down a corridor.

Hux is mildly alarmed, but his rational mind knows that it's highly unlikely he'll be kidnapped or executed ten steps from the Senate security office, so he goes along, keeping an eye out for possible routes of escape, until they reach an exit, with a transport waiting for them.

The kidnapping hypothesis gains a lot of traction in the thirty seconds it takes Hux to recognise Ben Amidala as the pilot of the transport.

“You're welcome,” the young senator says. He's wearing minimal make-up and what must be simple clothes by Naboo standards, and he seems perfectly at home in the cramped cockpit.

“Sorry, what?” asks Hux, then hurries to fasten his shoulder harness as the transport takes off with what's surely an illegal manoeuvre.

“You're welcome,” Ben Amidala repeats cheerfully, as buildings blur outside the transport windows. “The service droids were telling each other to avoid Snoke's offices for the rest of the cycle, so I thought you'd like to get out of there.”

“You... what?”

“I'm sure you can pass this off as research in your schedule.” Amidala jerks his wrist and the transport goes almost vertical, leaving Hux's stomach behind. “We're going to have lunch.”

 

 

Lunch is insultingly delicious, so much that Hux's stomach crawls back from the lower levels to partake. Amidala's table manners and conversation are infinitely better than his piloting skills (or the stench of misery in Snoke's office), and the view from the private dining room is fascinating.

Hux makes sure to scrape the last bits of blue jelly off his bowl before looking up at Ben Amidala and asking the obvious question.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I was bored.” The man shrugs, folds of dark green chersilk rippling as he does. “You're not boring, and I'm sure Snoke is pulling at his wrinkles in your absence. Why wouldn't I do this?”

“This could be a scandal, I'm on Snoke's payroll and–”

“I'm not telling, are you?” Ben Amidala grins suddenly, plush lips and white teeth. “And we're only having lunch, it's not like I'm bending you over a Senate platform or...”

“Very funny.” Hux firmly tells himself not to blush. Senator Amidala has been named Coruscant's Most Eligible Bachelor for four years running, but that means nothing to him. Nothing. “I could lose my job over this.”

“Or you could tell Snoke that you have an opening with the Naboo senator and get a raise. And a promotion, maybe to Chief Executive Lackey.”

Hux wonders if Senator Kanata put the thought of punching in his head, or if Amidala just inspires it naturally.

“Maybe that's what I'll do.”

“But will Snoke buy you Velanie flower jelly and cerlin scarves?” Amidala is mock-pouting, which is not at all attractive.

“What cerlin scarves?” asks Hux, and only realises his mistake once the words are out of his mouth.

“I'm glad you asked,” says Ben Amidala smugly, and produces a length of metallic fabric from somewhere; it's painted in soft pastel colours, unlike anything in Coruscant but resembling the sunset skies of the planet where Hux grew up.

“I... I can't, it's not...”

“But it suits you,” Amidala says after draping it over Hux's shoulder, as if that settled the matter. “Come on, I have to take you back before your ugly boss notices you're missing.”

 

 

Ben hasn't had as much fun in at least five months. Hux is prickly and smart and eats like he's been famished all his life, and his pale hands had clutched the cerlin scarf like he was thinking of strangling Ben with it.

His good mood is such that even finding an urgent communication from Rey on his console when he arrives back at his office can't put a damper on it.

“I need more info,” she says when he answers, cute face scrunched in determination.

“Good day, cousin mine,” Ben answers in what he knows is an obnoxiously pleasant tone. “How do you do? I'm fine, and very busy, thanks for asking.”

“Cut it out,” she demands. “What you gave me was good, but I need more. This could be big.”

“I gave you what I had, and I paid enough for that.” Ben frowns slightly at the flickering holo projection; he has a bad feeling about this. “What else do you need?”

Sometimes Ben is thankful that Rey is busy rooting out miscreants all over the galaxy rather than in Coruscant, because she's a rather terrifying little force of nature (maybe just like Leia had been at her age, and doesn't the thought smart?). By the time the communication is over, Ben has somehow agreed to root out more information on the black market kyber crystal trade.

Well, at least that gives him an excuse to buy Hux some wonderfully decadent present. Ben is full of ideas.

 

 

Hux hides the scarf in his sock drawer, where the cleaning droid has strict instructions not to look. The delicate hand-painted cerlin looks ridiculous between all that black and durasteel grey plastiwool, and once again Hux considers calling the whole thing off. What is he getting into? There is no place in his life for soft pastel colours or expensive fabrics. He considers throwing it in the trash compactor, but that scarf is the only soft thing in his life other than Millicent.

Well, maybe he can withstand a couple of lunch dates more, first. He'd do worse things for more of that Velanie flower jelly.

The flash of alarm he feels three cycles later, when he gets another summons from the Senate Security Office, dies quickly under a flash of excitement that Hux doesn't try all that hard to suppress. Phasma wants to know if it's anything serious, and he has to make up a story about a persistently-malfunctioning ID to soothe her suspicions.

This time, Hux doesn't give the awaiting Knight of Ren the opportunity to manhandle him.

“Aw, you're not wearing my gift,” says Amidala when Hux settles next to him on the small transport.

“I can hardly wear cerlin to the office without raising questions,” Hux points out.

“True,” Amidala concedes, and looks away from the viewfinder to glance quickly at Hux. “Maybe my next gift should be more discreet. How do you feel about lingerie?”

Don't punch the man driving the transport at suicidal speeds, Hux reminds himself.

They go to the lower levels this time, and though Amidala should be the one sticking out like a sore thumb in his Naboo fashion, he moves with such familiarity through the cramped spaces that it's Hux in his nondescript suit that people stare at instead.

The tiny hole-in-the-wall place where they end up eating is incredible, the food so tasty Hux could weep into his plate of choya noodles with sour sauce. Has Coruscant always been filled with so much delicious stuff? Has Hux been depriving himself all along? Why did he need an arrogant, decadent senator to show him all this?

“Not that watching you eat isn't in and of itself a pleasure,” drawls Amidala over dessert, in that tone that seems mocking and yet serious, “but may I disturb your enjoyment of that brandy mousse for a moment to discuss business?”

Hux swallows the last spoonful of the sweet, airy, boozy mousse before answering.

“I have no business with you.”

“Debatable,” answers Amidala with a smile, and the bastard slides his untouched dessert across the table at Hux. “But even if that were true, we could have. What more do you know about the kyber crystal trade?”

“Not much more than what I've already given you,” says Hux, getting started on Amidala's dessert. He's committed his fair share of crimes, but letting that mousse go to waste won't be one of them.

“Well, what more could you find out if you had the right incentive?” Ben Amidala waggles his eyebrows suggestively, but Hux can tell the answer is sincere.

“Why?”

Hux sees Amidala consider and discard a myriad answers in a fraction of a second.

“My cousin is a very difficult woman to shop for, and this would get me off the hook for a few Remembrance Day gifts.” The senator smiles, quick and bright. “Besides, she looks up to me and thinks I can do anything, how could I disappoint her?”

Hux makes a disbelieving noise into the bowl of brandy mousse.

“What is your price?” Amidala asks, and across the tiny table his dark eyes are bright and his knees press against Hux's own.

Isn't that a good question? It pains Hux to admit he still doesn't know the answer.

“I want two things,” says Hux, and pauses to scrape the last of the mousse off the sides of the bowl. “I want a promise from you that at one point in the future you'll honestly answer a question of my choosing, and I want something from you that will work as a security for you to keep that promise.”

Hux thinks that's a good way of making time to come up with something worthy of the effort he's putting in. Amidala looks wary at first, then considering, which makes Hux feel pretty pleased with himself.

“You are clever,” says Amidala with a slow smile, and Hux is not blushing, he's not. “I accept your terms. You have my promise, and soon you'll have your security.”

 

 

The kyber crystal trade is worse than First Order politics, and Hux should know. For a material that's supposedly only used on old-fashioned mystic rituals, the amount of laws, credits, and deaths surrounding its trade are slightly terrifying. It's a fun challenge. 

Working for Snoke has become drudgery: lying, then lying about the lying, twisting facts and figures that no-one will look at because they are blinded by Ben Amidala's charisma instead. Compared to the strategising, manoeuvring and terrorising Hux did to get Nova Arkanis a Senate seat in the first place (years of studying the New Republic legislation in order to discover loopholes and work-arounds to exploit, finding a suitable planet and importing a population believable enough to pass muster, all this while tempering and grooming Snoke without letting it show how much Hux despises him), his work as an aide feels like a vacation to Hoth.

“How can you possibly like it?”

It's dinner this time, a private dining room lit only by a few crystal lamps and the glow of the transports speeding outside the tall windows. Hux is having soup so delicious he wants to dive into a vat of it and never resurface.

“It's more fun when you're not working for a warmongering dictatorship,” Ben Amidala answers, with a crooked smile that would take all the sting out of his words if Hux felt inclined to get offended on the First Order's behalf these days.

Amidala came to pick up Hux for dinner straight from a Senate function, and he's decked out in clinging, shimmering cerlin silk, his dark hair pulled back into a tall headdress studded with sein jewels. 'I am radiant and determined and my foes cannot touch me,' the clothes say, and part of Hux wants to agree.

Over a tray of some sort of gastropod in a fruit-based sauce, Ben Amidala speaks at length of the efforts he spearheads to bring an end to slavery in the galaxy. It was a cause very dear to Padmé Amidala (neither of them mention the rumour that the mysterious father of her children was a slave), and it isn't all about trying to pass more stringent laws against flesh merchants; there's also undercover missions to infiltrate smuggling rings, and madcap hyperdrive chases to intercept kidnappers.

“You're mad,” Hux says flatly, because the alternative is sounding as impressed as he actually feels. He's rewarded: his words startle a sincere laugh out of Amidala.

Hux dawdles over dessert, telling Amidala about Millicent and her antics, and tells himself it's because of the plate of translucent squares of flower-flavoured jelly in the middle of the table.

“Oh,” says Ben Amidala when he's landed his transport in a terrace not far from Hux's rooms. “This is for you. You drive a hard bargain, Hux.”

It's a small, nondescript box.

“We know each other well enough by now that I don't need to tell you that I expect you to guard that with your life, I hope.” The faint light of the sein jewels on his headdress isn't enough for Hux to see Amidala's eyes clearly. “I'd hate to kill you when there's still so many restaurants we haven't tried.”

It's Hux curiosity, more than his better nature, that prevents him from dropping the box off the terrace and into the lower levels.

Sweeping his quarters for bugs is a habit for Hux (you're not paranoid if you've been raised in the First Order), and he is a little more careful tonight. Phasma will replace them all soon, but for tonight, Hux wants a little privacy.

He's glad he did this when he opens the box and pushes aside a layer of soft, scented paper to reveal a tangle of golden lace and black leather straps. Hux can feel his face burning as he pulls out what after some examination he discovers to be a sort of lingerie that, admittedly, would go unnoticed under Hux's everyday suits.

Hux is picturing himself storming into the Naboo embassy and strangling Ben Amidala with the lace harness when he notices, thanks to Millicent tipping the whole thing over in her attempts to get into it, that there's something else in the box.

Wrapped in a bit of rough, worn brown fabric there's a large red gemstone in a twisted orichalc setting.

Hux mutters a string of curses as he reaches for his datapad. After the dissolution of Naboo's monarchy in favour of a parliamentary democracy, most of its trappings ended up in Theed's Royal Museum, except for a few pieces that were assumed lost during Queen Amidala's storied reign; the Jewel of Zenda was one of those, except that apparently it's now lying in a tangle of lingerie on Hux's bed.

The desire to strangle Ben Amidala increases. Hux's heart beats like a drum. The monetary value of a gemstone that size aside, it's a piece of galactic history. How did Ben find it, and how can he be so irresponsible as to give it to the first idiot who asks him for something valuable? What if Hux planned to pawn it off or sell it and the whole sordid story to a tabloid?

Hux spends the rest of the night designing a small, lethal security system for the cubbyhole above his 'fresher that he'd once meant to hold weapons.

 

 

Rage and fear are powerful motivators. Hux hasn't worked so hard in years. He's used to performing under ungodly amounts of pressure (both internal and external) that would break lesser people, and yet the weight of a gemstone that fits on the palm of his hand is what threatens to break him.

What is he doing?

Hux wakes twice from dreams of losing the Jewel of Zenda (Ben's face going from teasing to disbelief to desolation to a dark, gut-churning fury) before he stops sleeping altogether, filling his nights with caff and research instead. He even does something he's never done before and recycles a speech for Snoke, who's due to appear before the Committee for Galactic Trade; it's further proof that no-one listens to Snoke (not even the man himself) that the only one who notices is their intern, Mitaka, and he just shoots Hux a startled glance and then ferociously stares down at his datapad for the rest of the meeting.

It's not too late for Hux to realise he's made a mistake. It's mortifying and the memory of it will haunt him for many years to come, but he can make it right. He'll complete his work on the kyber crystal trade, hand it to Ben alongside the damnable jewel, and forget all about it, write it off as a bad investment of his time and energy. No more skulking around, or Ben's regard, or dinner dates and delicious food, or engrossing conversations and the promise of more lingerie. Hux can still go back to the way things were before. No irreparable damage has been done. Not yet.

 

Ben doesn't like to admit he's frazzled, but this morning he punched a console so hard it died in a shower of sparks, so there's no use denying it.

He has people tracking Hux, of course, to make sure he doesn't take the Jewel and run (but Ben knows he won't). He has placated Rey with the promise of more information to come. He has things well in hand, he does. That doesn't explain the uneasy feeling in his stomach, or the times he's caught himself daydreaming about Hux (is he eating well, is his research frustrating him, has he considered wearing the bralette Ben bought him, would that cat of his like Ben).

Ben wears sky blue and silver (a hope and a prayer) and waits.

 

 

“You look awful,” says Ben when Hux gets in the transport. He, of course, looks impeccable, blue silk clinging to his wide shoulders.

“I hate you so fucking much,” Hux replies, and he's taken aback at the venom in his own voice; judging by Ben's startled look, he's not the only one.

“Maybe an Argellian casserole will help?” Ben offers with a smile Hux would be tempted to call 'tentative' if he weren't so damn tired.

They don't talk much during dinner. Ben is solicitous in keeping Hux's glass and plate full, even before the serving droids can get to it, and Hux just eats and drinks and tries not to think this will be the last time.

“Work going that badly?” Ben finally asks while they're waiting for dessert.

“I wouldn't know,” answers Hux; he's cradling a glass of blue orchid wine. “Phasma had to kick me awake in a meeting the other day.”

Ben opens his mouth, who knows whether to apologise or make a quip.

“Here,” Hux says before Ben can speak. “All that can be found about the kyber crystal trade without actually going into the Unknown Regions. I can hardly take the time off for a field trip.”

“Rey can do that,” Ben assures him, taking the pad. “Thank you, I'm sure–”

“And this,” Hux continues, the now-familiar anger rising as he slides the Jewel of Zenda and its wrapping across the table. “Take it and don't ever do this to me again.”

Ben's smile falters only for a second.

“Does this mean you finally have your question ready?” he asks, his large hands cradling the gem carefully.

“What will it take for you to leave me alone?”

In the time it takes Ben to look up from the jewel in his hand to Hux, his face has become devoid of all expression.

“Pardon?”

“I want you to leave me alone, what do I need to do?” repeats Hux. The wine and the anger and the lack of sleep all combine to twist his insides, make his knees feel weak.

“Is that actually your question?” Amidala could be speaking to the full Senate now, posture rigid and voice smoothed out of all inflexion.

“Will you answer?”

“I will do something better.” Amidala stands up in a rustle of silk. “I will leave you alone, as you request. Consider our business done, captain.”

The serving droids arrive with dessert after Amidala has left, but Hux has no appetite for it. He calls for a public transport to take him to his rooms, and spends a sleepless night telling himself he did the right thing.

 

 

In a display of great timing, Hux falls ill. At nights he tosses and turns without being able to fall asleep, and during the day he can't keep any food down; everything tastes both bland and bitter, so he survives on caff and handfuls of supplement pills.

“I'm fine,” he tells a highly-sceptical Phasma. 

“I'm fine,” he tells Mitaka when he meekly offers to go on a lunch run.

“I'm fine,” he tells Millicent when she licks his hair at night.

Snoke doesn't ask. Hux does his job, and does it well. There are no more distractions, no more sneaking out of the office, no more recycled speeches. Hux works and doesn't eat and keeps his head down during Senate sessions so he won't be tempted to look for a shock of cerlin and silk.

Hux did the right thing. He is fine. This will pass. There are more important things to worry about than the void that seems to have opened up in his chest.

 

 

It's the third console that needs to be repaired in two days. Ben doesn't care. His knights tiptoe around him, and he overheard two of them discussing the wisdom of calling Poe over for a visit. Ben doesn't care.

His pride is a bit bruised, of course, but it was only a game. Hux is the one who chickened out. Ben got what he wanted: some fun, a pad full of information, and his grandmother's jewel back intact. He can shake it off and go about just like he used to.

Ben doesn't look to see Hux trailing behind Snoke like a pale shadow. Ben doesn't refuse invitations to dinner because he finds the thought of eating with others abhorrent. Ben doesn't suddenly dread the thought of choosing his outfit every morning, certainly isn't tempted to pull out the heavy mourning gowns.

Ben's heart doesn't miss a beat when he's called to his living-room one night to see his cousin Rey standing there, covered in dirt and scrapes and wearing the expression the whole family has learnt to fear.

 

 

It's Phasma's shout that alerts Hux something is wrong. Not that he can do much. He's barely stood up when the office is already filled with military police, weapons drawn. One woman stays behind to inform Hux and a terrified Mitaka they're under arrest while the rest proceed into Snoke's office.

Hux doesn't put up any resistance. They're outmanned, outgunned, and caught completely by surprise. He vaguely thinks he should have seen it coming, that he should have prepared better, but he can't muster much energy even for self-flagellating.

He's put in a room with a cot, a chair, and a small 'fresher, and left alone for what he calculates are six or seven hours. Hopefully it's enough time for his console to do a thorough wiping of files since Hux isn't there to provide the secondary and tertiary passwords that would usually prevent it.

It must be around midnight when an official arrives to check Hux's ID, inform him he's being held to provide information for an investigation led by the Galactic Army, and ask him if he wants to give notice to someone of his whereabouts.

“No,” he answers. “But I have a cat.”

Thirty minutes later, she comes by to tell him Millicent has been retrieved and will be well cared for.

Hux hopes they find her a good home. She's not the most agreeable of cats, but surely someone in Coruscant has space for a haughty ginger tabby whose former owner was executed or sent to a work camp for betraying the New Republic?

He doesn't get any sleep, but he's used to that. In the morning, he requests caff and refuses the packaged breakfast they offer him.

They are careful to tell him he isn't being accused of anything, just held to ensure his cooperation with the current investigation. Hux's experience is with trade and political legislation, not criminal law, but he still refuses to let them assign him a public attorney. 

The questions, when they come, are a surprise. Hux is expecting to be asked about the process of getting a Senate seat for Nova Arkanis, the military instalations built there, the forcible relocation of war refugees from the Hosnian system into the Unknown Regions, or to any of the thousand petty infractions they've committed since they arrived at Coruscant. He's not expected to be faced with a series of figures and prices.

His stomach sinks when he realises they're investigating the kyber crystal trade.

Hux refuses to collaborate, refuses food, refuses the visit of a medical droid. He only speaks out to clear Mitaka of any wrongdoing. He wants to ask after Millicent again, but doesn't want to give them the satisfaction.

Maybe some day Hux will appreciate the bitter humour of having been the architect of his own downfall, or the brilliance of Ben Amidala at having set him up for it. For now, he prefers to stare at the ceiling of his cell and try not to think.

 

 

In the fourteenth day of his arrest, they take Hux to the interrogation room again. He would have thought they'd be tired of his silence by now, but a nervous energy in the guards that take him there suggests they think they've come up with a new way of ensuring his cooperation.

Hux is almost disappointed when he finds neither torture instruments nor Senator Amidala in the room; he'd been steeling himself for the former, ready to earn his arrest with the latter's blood on his hands. Instead there's a short human woman bouncing on the balls of her feet while she watches her reflection on the two-way mirror. Hux's first, chilling thought is that she's General Organa, but she turns to show a youthful face that seems to be struggling not to show dimples.

“Sit,” she says, as if the guards aren't marching Hux to the table and attaching his handcuffs to the tether there.

She takes the seat on the other side of the table and looks at Hux with what some idiot somewhere might describe as an endearing scrunching of her nose. What is this, Baby's First Interrogation?

The first questions are easy, obviously there just to make time. The girl turns off the datapad with a snort after Hux's sixth pointed silence.

“Ben did say you'd be stubborn.”

Hux tries not to tense at this, he honestly does. He tries to not let his face show anything, to control the twitch in his hands and the jolt in his chest. The girl's eyes are dark and knowing, and he's not sure he's succeeded.

“He's taking care of your cat, by the way.” She bares a slim wrist to show him three shallow red scratches. “Vicious little thing, it likes sleeping on his best travella cape, it drives him mad.”

Millicent, doing him proud. Hux will bask in the thought later, when he's alone. It might be a lie, designed to soften him, and if so it's artfully done.

“You're Rey, then,” he says, his voice a little hoarse from disuse.

She grins, dimples and all, and Hux hasn't weathered or witnessed such a strange interrogation in all his years.

“Yes. Did Ben talk about me? He moans and whines about family, y'know, but... well, we're family.” She shrugs a little, suddenly self-conscious if Hux can judge by the hunch of her shoulders. “He got into this only because I asked him to.”

Is Hux supposed to say something in response to this? Who is revealing information to whom?

“None of us knew this thing about kyber crystals would lead us back to Snoke,” she continues, earnest and so very young. 

Wait, what? Hux keeps quiet while facts fall into place in his head. Snoke's dark moods that grew worse as Hux's investigation advanced, his utter disregard for his senatorial duties that Hux took for incompetence, the gaps in Hux's research that could only be filled visiting the Unknown Regions where Snoke and the First Order have their base on Nova Arkanis. Hux remembers how in the First Order's early days Snoke spoke of how if only the Empire had had some mystical force behind it it might not have been defeated; foolish ideas that appeared to be forgotten as Snoke rose in power.

He's been played for a fool from all sides, it seems.

 

 

Hux is both impressed and furious, and honestly, he's tired of being so torn. General Organa has been studying Snoke and planning his downfall since before he even made it into the Senate; Hux and the First Order vastly underestimated the extent of her influence and the depth of her determination.

He supposes he should be mourning his lost ambitions instead, the idea of becoming a Senator, of having the Galaxy at his feet. But though the thought hurts, though it sparks rage at the mouth of his stomach and brings bile to the back of his throat, it also summons something else, something worse: the acrid taste of betrayal and a gasping, dizzying emptiness in his chest. Even if he wasn't sure the cells are under constant surveillance, the thought of crying over his naivete and heartbreak like some green boy is too humiliating to bear.

Hux can't even think of Millicent to distract him, since now he knows he must picture her stalking through the decadent private quarters in the Naboo embassy, sleeping on travella cloaks, and getting her head-scratches from large bejewelled hands.

So, except when he's talking to young Lieutenant Skywalker and putting the pieces together in his head, Hux does his best not to think.

 

 

Hux sits on his cell and visualises detailed blueprints from his days as a military engineer, which he then proceeds to to correct and improve. He exercises for hours at a time, and if the opponent he imagines when he goes through his close-quarters, hand-to-hand routines is dark-haired and tall and broad-shouldered and trim-waisted, it only gets his blood pumping faster.

Rey won't tell him if they'll execute him, send him to a labour camp, or keep him in a cell for the rest of his life. Hux suspects she thinks she's doing him a favour. She isn't.

Another surprise comes when Rey brings one of her sources in one of her futile, almost endearing attempts to get Hux to talk. Her source is none other that Senator Kanata's secretary, their former intern, the thorn on Phasma's side; she'll be darkly vindicated she was right about Finn, Hux thinks, but she won't talk either.

“The trial will be soon,” Rey says, almost apologetic, while Finn glares at Hux from the doorway. “We really have had all the information and evidence we need for a while. Are you sure you don't want to cooperate?”

Hux gives her a look that he means as withering but probably comes across more as rueful.

 

 

The officer who promised him to take Millicent to a safe place is kind enough to bring him one of his suits for the trial. Hux dresses in scratchy, durasteel-grey synthwool and breathes deep. He's calm; the waiting is over. Soon he'll know his sentence and will be able to plan accordingly. Soon he'll be dead or in a distant prison planet, and he'll be able to leave behind Coruscant and its memories.

He just has to make it through the trial.

To someone brought up by the First Order, the whole thing is surprising in its fairness. Hux is again offered legal counsel, and some of the information Lieutenant Skywalker brings up is dismissed due to a broken chain of evidence. If he were still within the First Order, Hux would be dead thrice over by the time the judge is ready to hear the final statements.

Hux again declines to speak. The prosecutor looks at General Organa (a small but imposing presence at the back of the room, whose eyes Hux has felt on him all throughout the proceedings), then confers for a moment with Rey Skywalker.

Just one small formality, and it is done.

The doors to the chamber hiss open. The judge, jury and audience turn to the newcomer.

“Your Honour, if we may present one last testimony,” says the prosecutor, though no one hears them.

Senator Ben Amidala is imposing dressed in all black, sleeves so long they almost drag on the floor, geometric embroidery in luminiscent silk spreading across his wide shoulders. His headdress is sleek, the better to showcase his face, painted all white but for black markings on his lips and cheeks.

Hux turns back to the judge, willing his face to remain impassive; he's tried to forget, but his brain clings to information. Senator Amidala is dressed like an apology.

For a moment, Hux toys with the idea of raising an objection and trying to have Amidala's testimony invalidated. What kind of dramatic holovid nonsense is this entrance, who is the surprise designed for? But if he opens his mouth to speak, stars know what will come out, so Hux keeps staring at the judge and shrugs when he's asked if he accepts the late move by the prosecutor.

Senator Amidala is eloquent. Senator Amidala is impassioned and charismatic, and the jury and judge hang from his every word. Hux has to dig his short nails into the palms of his hand to keep from vaulting the barrier and strangling him.

Senator Amidala recounts the long investigation, the many attempts to infiltrate Snoke's inner circle, the atrocities that were committed by the First Order while General Organa and her staff worked ceaselessly to try and obtain enough evidence to stop him. He speaks of his cousin's courage in travelling all over the galaxy to gather information. And finally, he speaks of their great breakthrough, of getting the final piece to the puzzle that made everything fall into place and brought Snoke to justice.

“And it's all due to one person,” Amidala says, and pauses. A Calamari female in the jury looks as if she's about to pass out from excitement; Hux would sympathise if he had space on his mind for anything but rage. “Armitage Hux risked his position and his very life to bring us the data we needed. He put aside a lifetime of indoctrination to do the right thing. And even now, faced with both the weight of the law and the threat of retribution from the First Order, he keeps his immense contribution quiet to not endanger the proceedings against former Senator Snoke.”

Hux lets out a huge breath. He feels cold, his ears are buzzing with a loud noise. Everyone in the chamber is staring at him. He can only stare at the table in front of him.

Senator Amidala speaks of quiet heroism, of consequences. He reminds the judge of Coruscant's asylum programme. He emphasises again how important Hux's contribution to their cause was, how cruelly the First Order might punish him now that the truth is out. He pleads, voice full of feeling, for understanding and compassion.

Hux just breathes.

 

 

“What the hells was that?!”

Hux is somewhat gratified to see Finn flinch and the smile disappear from Rey Skywalker's face, though Ben Amidala remains impassive even with an armful of datapads clattering at his feet.

“We didn't know if it'd work,” Rey attempts to explain. “We didn't want to get your hopes up.”

“Oh, we didn't, did we?” Hux snarls. “We wouldn't want me to be prepared to be publicly labelled a traitor, would we? We wouldn't want me to have a say in what's going to happen in my life?”

“You got off free!” says Finn of all people, looking as pleased about the situation as Hux himself is. “Considering what could have happened to you, exile and the occasional assassination attempt are nothing. What are you complaining about?”

“Besides,” Rey hurries to add, “Snoke and most of the First Order are going to be in prison for a very long time. There's no one out there to put a hit on you.”

This does not make Hux or his wounded pride feel any better. He's about to round up on the still-silent Senator Amidala when the door to the small counsel room opens, and a small woman escorted by a golden protocol droid enters.

“General,” said Finn, straightening up like he'd never done in Phasma's presence.

Oh, Phasma. She is going to kill him, thinks Hux; this thought helps him resist the urge to salute General Organa.

“By your expression, I assume you didn't know about this little stunt either,” the general tells Hux before turning to her son and niece. “What exactly was that all about? Are there any more surprises waiting for me in the trials still left?”

“No, ma'am,” murmurs Rey, head bowed.

Ben doesn't answer, as distant as serene as a duraplaster statue. Hux's fist hurts from the effort not to punch him, and judging from the twitch in her fingers, General Organa feels just the same.

“I see,” the general tells her son. “I had wondered what your help would cost me this time. I trust this will be all?”

Finally Ben condescends to nod, just once.

Maybe what remains of the First Order will be too busy collapsing to have him assassinated, but Hux wouldn't put it past General Organa to try. The worst part is that he can't help but feel some sympathy for her, knowing what it's like to deal with Ben Amidala.

“I don't expect any trouble from you now,” the general tells Hux, and what so many other people would make sound like a question comes like an order from her.

Welp, there goes all of Hux's sympathy.

He meets the general's eyes and instructs himself not to flinch. He put up with Snoke all these years, he can do this.

“I will strive not to end up in this situation again, general,” he says, and he's darkly satisfied when General Organa purses her lips.

With a sigh and a look that has even Hux feeling vaguely guilty, the general and her droid leave the room.

 

 

“I, I really have to go too,” Rey says moments after her aunt has left. “Paperwork to do, you know.”

“Wait, are you–?” whispers Finn loudly.

“Yup, we really have to go,” Rey insists, grabbing his hand and fairly towing him out of the room. “See you!”

When the door hisses shut behind them, Hux is finally free to do what he's been wanting to do for so long and punch Ben Amidala in the face. But Ben's whole posture, from his painted face to his slumped shoulders, from his dark eyes to the white-knuckled knot he's made of his hands, and the fact that everything about his outfit screams an apology to the two people in Coruscant who know about Naboo traditions, say that he would take the blow and do nothing in retaliation.

Hux's rage deflates at the thought of blood dripping down the white face paint and onto the silver embroidery.

He's so tired, all of a sudden. The tension he's held through his imprisonment and trial unravels in a matter of seconds, leaving him exhausted.

Hux has no home now, no job, no ambitions that haven't been turned to ashes. His only friend is in prison (and it's his fault), and all he has left is two years of community service to perform, and a job history irrevocably tainted by what happened to Snoke. Goodness knows if Millicent will want to abandon the life of a Senator's pampered pet to return to go back with him.

Maybe Hux should leave it all behind, his identity included, and take up a new life as a bartender in some remote, tropical Outer Rim planet, or something equally uncharacteristic.

But being in Ben Amidala's presence is no place to indulge in self-pity. Hux squares his shoulders, meets Ben's eyes and prepares himself to take his leave.

“Wait,” says Ben. His voice is small, rough, a world of difference from what it was like on the witness' stand. “Rey suggested I take you into my own staff, stars know we could use someone like you–”

“A traitor, willing to sell out his boss for a couple of good meals and some flattery?”

“You are not a traitor,” Ben says between gritted teeth, and Hux is glad to see the apologetic façade start to crack. “And I know better than to hire someone who'll be tempted to murder me every time I open my mouth.”

“Then I must turn down your most generous offer.”

“There's an empty Senate seat, you nerf-herder!”

Hux stares at Ben, more surprised by the non-sequitur than by the insult.

“Snoke's Senate seat has been left vacant, and your planet has three years to elect a new senator to fill it,” Ben continues. “And I certainly didn't blackmail the judge into 'forgetting' to add disqualification from office to your sentence for nothing!”

“What?”

“It's what you wanted, isn't it?” Ben shoots him what would be a glare if his whole posture weren't still so apologetic. “Nova Arkanis will need someone who knows what they're doing now that the First Order is not around anymore. And you've obviously never been suited to being a subordinate.”

Hux tries to hide his startled laughter under a cough, but by the way Ben's stance relaxes, he's not entirely successful.

“You want me to become a senator?” he asks, just to clarify, and because the mood whiplash is hard to take after so much time alone in a cell.

“You want to become a senator,” Ben replies. “I... well, what I want isn't important right now.”

“This is...” Hux runs a hand down his face and tries to school his expression against Ben's piercing eyes. “A very elaborate apology.”

Ben twitches, but doesn't deny it, which is a victory in and of itself.

“Perhaps you might think it's still not enough.” Ben's eyes are still a bit wary. “Perhaps... you'd like to have dinner with me? Tonight? You can come to my quarters and pick up your hellbeast before it destroys all my wardrobe, too.”

Hux thinks he shouldn't smile, but he does.

 

 

 

Certain budget-conscious parties opposed it, but now that Ben looks over the room where the Inaugural Senate Ball is being held, he is glad his opinion prevailed. The start of a new Senate term is an occasion to meet new faces, congratulate those who've retained their seats, and establish new alliances, and what better venue to do that than in a glittering ball room?

He turns to look at the terraces, and shivers a little at the feeling of that thirty seven chains, heavy with gems, that make up the back of his gown. He's dressed in shimmering sky-blue cerlin silk, Naboo diamonds, and little else.

“You look gorgeous,” says a smooth voice.

“Thank you, Poe,” Ben replies. “What did you do that General Organa ended up sending you here tonight?”

“Oh nothing,” says the star pilot of the Galactic Army, grinning widely. “Certainly not helping Rey with her latest plan.”

“Leave me out of it this time,” says Ben with an obvious shudder. “My reputation can't take any more dramatic crime-fighting.”

“Of course. You take such good care of your reputation, after all.” Poe smiles into the glass of blossom wine. “Hm, I wonder why there's a red-headed man glaring lightsabers into the back of my head,” he says idly.

“Ah.” Ben smoothes the cerlin silk at his hip. “That must be the new senator from Nova Arkanis.”

“Is it.” Poe bows at a passing Calamarii attendant. “That must be my cue to leave you, then.”

“We'll meet for lunch one of these days,” Ben tells him, making no move to stop him.

“If I'm not murdered by a Nova Arkanis hitman before that,” Poe answers with a grin, and nods in passing to the frowning red-headed man walking up to Ben. “Good evening, senator.”

“Good evening, Senator Hux,” Ben says, his attention already held by his new colleague.

“Good evening, Senator Amidala.” Hux looks at him from head to toe, so Ben reaches for a drink in a way that will display his bare back and the jewels emphasising it to its best effect; he hopes that the scratch Millicent left on his shoulder the other day won't be too noticeable. “You look... festive, tonight.”

“It is an occasion for celebration, after all.” Ben offers Hux a glass of blossom wine. “Congratulations on your seat, of course.”

“Thank you.” Hux takes a sip of his glass. “I look forwards to working alongside you. Or opposing you, as the case might be.”

“Of course.” Ben smiles. “It's going to be my pleasure, I'm sure.”

A giggle about waist-high distracts him from Hux's eyes.

“Senator Kanata, how do you do?” Ben asks in his most pleasant tone, and casts about a discreet look around for her secretary; it's been three years since Snoke's trial, but it's still not altogether prudent to put Hux and Finn in the same room together. Fortunately, Poe has caught Finn's attention and appears to be leading him to the dance floor.

“Ha!” Maz Kanata, looking up at Ben and Hux with all the subtlety of a Wookie. “Still want to punch him, do you?”

Hux coughs a little into his glass of wine.

“Ma'am, I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about. And if I did, I'm sure I wouldn't be the only one,” he answers with a sharp smile Ben wants to kiss.

Maz Kanata laughs again and chirps something that has Hux nodding, and maybe Ben should be paying attention to one of his oldest allies in the Senate, but he's distracted by the thought that they're finally here, Senator Amidala and Senator Hux, standing as equals, in public, with the Galaxy at their feet.

It's going to be amazing, Ben just knows it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> Here's some of the visual references used for the fic.
> 
> -[Ben's pleated skirts](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/0e/d2/98/0ed298e974547328635b4737803dd093.jpg)  
> -[Ben's gown at the Naboo embassy soirée](http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2014/05/06/article-0-1D9CB0FD00000578-306_634x912.jpg)  
> -[Ben's second gift to Hux.](http://lovechildboudoir.com/products/dynasty-gold-filigree-cage-bralette)  
> -[Ben's gown at the trial](http://amortentiafashion.tumblr.com/post/151117646273/attackoftheclothes-mourning-gown-for-breha)  
> -[Possible apology face paint](http://hxxxm.tumblr.com/post/141725392452/bonus-like-grandmother-like-grandson)  
> -[Ben's gown at the Inaugural Ball](http://tresaiden.tumblr.com/post/21496928711/ralph-lauren-collection-fallwinter-2012)


End file.
